


gold dust in our hands

by 1000_directions



Series: luckyverse [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Nostalgia, Sharing Clothes, Tracksuits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 14:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16160666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/pseuds/1000_directions
Summary: Louis needs to know Bucky's favorite color.





	gold dust in our hands

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to the anonymous tumblr ask that prompted this <3

By no stretch of the imagination do Bucky and Louis have the same size bodies. However, that doesn’t stop them from tending to wear the same size clothing more often than not. Louis loves soft, oversized apparel that he can lounge in, whereas Bucky likes his clothing more form-fitting, and that ends up being just about the same size for each of them. Bucky doesn’t do too much clothes shopping for himself, but when he does, he’s mindful of the fact that Louis will probably be swimming in his T-shirts by the end of the week, so while he mostly buys clothing that is practical, he’s careful to choose the softest, most indulgent cottons out of respect for Louis’ tastes. On the other hand, Louis likes to shop quite a lot, and whenever he picks out a rack of tracksuits for himself, he tends to buy a few with Bucky specifically in mind, opting for the dark, neutral colors and concealed closures that Bucky prefers.

Bucky doesn’t care about fashion, not one single bit, but he wears everything Louis buys him.

They’re sitting on the couch while Louis buys clothing from his phone. Well, Bucky is sitting on the couch, and Louis is lying down with his head on Bucky’s thigh and his legs draped over the back of the couch, and Bucky is playing with Louis’ hair while Louis adds five of the same tracksuit into his shopping cart.

“Oi,” Louis says with a furrowed brow, looking up from his phone screen. “What’s your favorite color? Why don’t I know this?”

“I’m not sure,” Bucky says slowly. “Haven’t given it much thought.”

“If you had to pick,” Louis presses. “C’mon, we should know this shit about each other.”

“Like my favorite color to look at, or my favorite color to wear?” Bucky asks. “Because there’s a lot of bright, neon colors I like. Like fluorescent? They didn’t have those when I was a kid, but I like seeing them. Makes the future feel real vivid. But I wouldn’t wear them.”

“Ah, that’s too late,” Louis says with a grin. “Just ordered you a hot pink tracksuit, love. You’re going to look wicked in it.”

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky says, smiling down at Louis and tugging on the ends of his hair. “It’s crazy, though. Who knew they could just make new colors? In another hundred years, people might be looking at colors we can’t even imagine now.”

“What else?” Louis asks, setting his phone aside and pressing his cheek to Bucky’s thigh. “Love hearing about how you see the world.”

“There’s a way the sun used to set in Wakanda,” Bucky says thoughtfully, and just saying the words brings the picture to mind. He knows he can never describe it correctly in a way to make Louis really see what it’s like, but he tries anyway. “The colors, Lou. The way the light refracted when it hit the force field made it all look...shimmery. You could see more of the sky there than you can out here, and there was something endless and awesome about it. I lived pretty far from the city, and I’d sit against a tree sometimes and watch the sun go down, and it just...overtook me.” He isn’t describing it right, not at all. He needs to bring Louis there so badly. “Purple looks different in Wakanda. It feels like a different color entirely.”

“You’re cheating,” Louis says softly, rubbing his palm in circles over Bucky’s knee. “You have to pick a color I’ve seen.”

“You’ll see it,” Bucky says, running his fingertip along the faint freckles on Louis’ face, joining each cluster into a small triangle, one up by his hairline and another by his mouth. Louis smiles at his odd ministrations but doesn’t try to stop him.

“Try again,” Louis says. “Give me another color to work with here.”

“I guess,” Bucky says, and then he pauses, and he closes his eyes to see what happens when he’s looking at nothing. “Yellow,” he says finally, opening his eyes. “I like yellow.”

“That’s a nice one,” Louis says. “Cheery, innit?”

“Makes me think of that stupid, impractical sweatsuit you wore when we hiked up Runyon Canyon on our second date,” Bucky says with a grin.

“In my own defense,” Louis says, raising his eyebrows, “I didn’t realize we were going to be hiking, and I was just trying to look sharp and impress you.”

“You impressed me,” Bucky says, and remembering makes him smile. “You looked so bright and real. Shining like...I don’t know. Like possibility. Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“Do I look good in yellow?” Louis asks Bucky, eyes wide and deceptively innocent.

“You know you look good in everything,” Bucky murmurs, like they both knew he was going to. “Hey, you’re too far away. I can’t kiss you.”

“That’s a travesty,” Louis says, swinging his legs around so he’s sitting normally on the couch again. “I deserve to be kissed, and actually I demand it.”

“Then shut up already,” Bucky says, leaning over to crowd Louis against the back of the couch.

Bucky gets one of his arms all the way around Louis, his hand cupping Louis’ shoulder from behind so he can maneuver their bodies together perfectly as he finds Louis’ smart mouth with his own. Louis melts into him, warm and content and happy to be kissed, and Bucky kisses him deeply and thoroughly, steals the breath right from Louis’ mouth and kisses it back into him until Louis is panting too hard to kiss at all. And then Bucky kisses his cheek and runs his lips along Louis’ beard, savoring the rough parts of him as much as the soft ones.

“How’s that, then?” Bucky whispers. “Did you get what you deserve?”

“Always,” Louis says faintly. He touches his fingertip to his own lower lip, and he smiles when Bucky kisses his finger and his knuckles and the parts of Louis’ mouth he can still get to. “You always give me what I need.”

“You give me what I need, too,” Bucky says, and he nudges Louis’ finger out of the way, replaces it with his own thumb, reverently drawing the curve of Louis’ lower lip over and over.

Louis smiles lazily at him, and Bucky smiles back. They just sit there for a minute, looking at each other, lovesick and goofy and kiss-drunk, and then eventually, Louis feels around for his phone, finds it hiding in the crack between the couch cushions.

“Would you wear yellow if I bought it for you?” Louis asks.

“No,” Bucky lies.

“Yes, you would,” Louis decides with a smirk, adding one last tracksuit to his cart and checking out.

Yes, Bucky would. And when Louis’ purchases arrive four days later, yes, Bucky does.

**Author's Note:**

> always accepting prompts at [tumblr](http://1000-directions.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
